The 99th Hunger Games
by Xechasate
Summary: Twenty-four Tributes will be placed in a re-creation of a city lost underwater long ago and forced to kill in order to win. There can be only one survivor, and the Capitol must have their Victor. The Champion will be forever free from a return to the Arena and the Reapings, but will they be truly free?
1. Chapter 1- The 99th Hunger Games!

_Dear Diary,_

_You're new to me, so I'll introduce myself. My name is Aurora Austriallis, and I live in the GLORIOUS Capitol! I keep a new diary every Annual Hunger Games. So far, I have exactly eight diaries. YOU are my ninth. Next year is the Quarter Quell, so I'll probably need two diaries to hold all the fun information and order of events!_

_Anyways, I've always enjoyed the Games, ever since I was a little girl and I snuck out of my room to watch them from behind the couch were my parents were. My favorite part of the whole thing is the very beginning, and seeing the looks on the faces of the Tributes as their platform rises above the landscape. _

_As you are new, I will tell you what happens. I type the whole session of the Games onto my computer (a slim golden beauty, a gift from my Escort friend for District 1), then I print you out and have you bound with dark brown leather and gold lettering. Soon, I place you on my shelf and you are evermore a part of my collection!_

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**Please look at my profile for the Tribute Form.**

Tribute Lists, Tribute Owners

Tribute List:  
District 1 Male: Blake Stonem, 17 - Mads514  
District 1 Female: Taffeta Royden, 17 - Tigergirl22

District 2 Male: Mars Everett, 18 - sutcliffe97  
District 2 Female: Candle Saunteir, 15 - OfficerChaurtle

District 3 Male: Viole Ro, 13 - Methane  
District 3 Female: Viola Ro, 13 - Methane

District 4 Male: Axl Floyd, 17 - Rippo100  
District 4 Female: Mistle Lou, 17 - Methane

District 5 Male: Niklass "Nic" Hadeshan, 12 - Elim9  
District 5 Female: Roxy Larose, 18 - Lya200

District 6 Male: Harley "Lee" Chang, 17 - Dante Alighieri1308  
District 6 Female: Alaina Midnight, 17 - Rippo100

District 7 Male: Jack Roader, 14 - Lya200  
District 7 Female: Allela Ling Bucker, 12 - Lya200

District 8 Male: Tanner Craven, 18 - Elim9  
District 8 Female: Mazella Bancroft, 12 - AuroraSwanGirl - Guest

District 9 Male: Ahron Ember, 15 - Elim9  
District 9 Female: Sundance (Sunny) Ticia, 17 - Tigergirl22

District 10 Male: Johny Harper, 18 - Lya200  
District 10 Female: Annetta Sander, 18 - hgamesfic

District 11 Male: Coren Joss, 16 - Juggernaut661  
District 11 Female: Cinnamon Spice, 18 - EverlarkClato4ever

District 12 Male: Harrison Baleiv, 14 - OfficerChaurtle  
District 12 Female: Marian Hallchanser, 17 - OfficerChaurtle


	2. Half of District 11

**Thank you all who were patient enough to wait for me to be able to re-post this story. I got at least two more Tributes, and cannot wait for more!**

**Also, please do not send any Tributes in via review until I know how to remove those reviews, as I do NOT want to have to put the whole story up again!**

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Aurora Austriallis, Capitolite

OMG! I CANNOT believe that I was late to watch the Reapings! My stupid boss kept me at work late. Can you believe he tried to take me out to dinner? Gah! Winngaard is, like, forty and OVERWEIGHT! I, on the other hand, just celebrated my 21st birthday! My absolute favorite gift was an Asian Avox; she is SO exotic-looking. Her black hair is cut in a dramatic A-line, and I have forbidden her from wearing any of that white Avox makeup - it's so dreary and dull!

Anyway, I was just in time to watch the Reaping in District 11, and I only got to see the girl! My stupid boss called just as they were about to call the boy, and I missed it! I wasn't even able to watch District 12, boring as they always are, because Winngaard wanted me back at work. Something about a special call from President Vandara Vetrios herself! Winngaard was super excited, and it seems like President Vetrios needs another scientist as a Gamemaker, 'cause she had to kill the last one (the mutts weren't very exciting). I hope I don't get picked...

Back to the original subject: the Reapings. That 11 girl looks like she has fire! I certainly like the looks of her! When I got to my TV (this was before my boss called), the Escort for District 11, Vogue Embraer, was just reaching into the Reaping bowl. This year, it looked like one of the skyscrapers here in the Capitol... Odd. I hope the Arena has a city in it this year! Anyway, Vogue pulled a name out of the skyscraper with her traditional "Now, for District 11's lucky female Tribute!" She opened the slip, looked at it with a look of disgust, and called out, "Cinnamon Spice! Please come forward!"

There was a flurry of activity in the back row. A small girl, about seven, was clinging to a tall, wiry, African girl. Her t-shirt had some words on it, but until the camera zoomed in on Cinnamon, I couldn't read the words. When I was finally able to distinguish the letters, I was shocked! The words were "F**K you, Capitol B***H's!" You could tell that the words had been handwritten on the shirt. I was quite happy a moment later when the cameras blurred out the writing on the girl's shirt. That kind of language and attitude is completely uncalled for and rebellious!

Cinnamon pried her little sister off of her legs and stormed her way to the stage. Confidence radiated from her very being, and she glared at anyone who dared make eye contact. When she got to the stage, she glared at the Escort ferociously. If looks could kill, Cinnamon's would have put Vogue on the floor in agony. Vogue ignored the glare and asked Cinnamon "What was that all about?"

Cinnamon snorted. "Oh, you know," she scowled, "Younger siblings. I am all she has left, so I guess she doesn't want to lose me."

"I see," said Vogue. "So what's her name?"

"Sugar."

"And how old are you, Cinnamon?"

Cinnamon gave a dry laugh. "I am eighteen. One more year and she wouldn't have to worry about me, eh? And if I hadn't been Reaped, she would have been later!"

Vogue is startled. "And why is that?" she asks, confused. It appears that Cinnamon is done talking, though, and Vogue is moving to the Boy's bowl when my phone rings.


	3. District 7

**YES! Most of my Districts ****full! Thanks to the people who kindly submitted Tributes! Here is one more chapter... Still in the Capitolite POV!**

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_**Aurora Austriallis, Capitolite (diary entry 1.2a) **_

The Reapings in District 7 were a bit interesting. Normally only the Reapings in the Career districts are interesting, so it was odd to watch an Outlier District with an intriguing Reaping. Anyways, the Escort for District 7, Amber Seraphim, walked out onto the stage after the mayor read the Treaty of Treason and stood in front of the Reaping Skyscraper (I wonder if all the Bowls will be skyscrapers this year?). Amber smiled out at the District citizens and possible Tributes. "Up first," she cooed, "will be our female tribute! And the lucky girl is..." Here she reached deep into the skyscraper and drew out a slip. "Blina Love! Please come forward, Blina Love!"

The camera zoomed out to the back of the Square. In the twelve-year-old section, all of the children had parted to form a clear path to the stage for the blonde Tribute. Blina was clinging to a girl who looked just like her. I wonder if she was Blina's twin? They were both identical, so probably.

Slowly, the two girls detached themselves. Blina slowly made her way to the stage, crying the whole way. Once she got to the stage, Amber smiled gently at her and asked, "How old are you, Blina?" Blina, still crying, stuttered out "T-t-twelv-v-e."

"Well, you're lucky to have been Reaped! It's a great honor for a lowly District citizen to be taken to the Capitol! Sadly, though, we have to ask for volunteers. Let's just hope that your luck doesn't change, ya?"

Amber turned back to the Town Square. "As I just said, I am required to ask for volunteers. So, DO WE HAVE ANY VOLUNTEERS?" I was shocked to see another small girl, about 4'0, in a purple silk gown from the twelve-year-old section raise her hand. "I volunteer" was all she said as she bravely walked to the stage, sun glinting off her red hair (her dress really complimented her hair well!). Amber was shocked to see an actual Volunteer in District 7, she staggered! I felt so sorry for her, because I really wouldn't want to be losing my balance in front of the whole nation of Panem either.

Once the volunteer girl got onto the stage, Peacekeepers led Blina off the stage. Amber had finally recovered from her shock at the volunteer, and gathered the presence of mind to ask the volunteer "How old are you, and what is your name?" The volunteer looked at her steadily through her pine-green eyes. "My name," she stated slowly and clearly, "Is Allela Bucker. I am twelve years old, and the twins Blina and Belle Love are my best friends."

Amber decided that enough was enough, and walked over to the boys' Skyscraper. "Now for the male tribute!" she called into the microphone. She quickly drew out a name, obviously not wanting to prolong her humiliation on television, and read it aloud. "Jack Roader!" Again, the camera zoomed into a section of the children gathered in the Square. A fat, pasty boy in a black sweatshirt and blue jeans (really, horrible fashion sense. I thought this was a celebration!) stumbled out of his section, and after he straightens up and starts walking, I can tell he isn't very tall, only about 5'7? His brown hair is curly and greasy, like he hasn't bathed in a while.

Finally, this "Jack" reaches the stage. The Escort asks how old he is, and the answer is "*sniffle* Fifteen! *sob*" Poor Escort Amber looks as though she cannot wait to get away from him, and I cannot blame the woman! The boy obviously has horrid personal hygiene, and is sobbing so hard it's the only thing I can hear! Eventually, though, Jack stops crying enough for Amber to ask, "Any volunteers?" This time, she is met with silence. Jack takes his head out of his hands and looks around at the Square in disbelief. "What?" he yells. "NO-ONE will volunteer for ME? The MAYOR'S SON? I can't believe this! You are all horrible people, and my father will punish you!"

Apparently, the boy is a total idiot. Why would anyone want to volunteer for such a spoiled brat? I wouldn't! Although, I don't have to... That's one of the many benefits of living in the Capitol, far away from those District slums. Back to the TV; the Escort just had Allela and Jack shake hands. Yet again, she turns to the crowd. "Your tributes for the 99th Hunger Games, Allela Bucker and Jack Roader!" Amber leads the Tributes off the stage and into the Justice Building, which looks like really fancy log cabin, with the Seal of Panem and the District Seal above the door. The Seal of Panem is larger than the District Seal, and higher, to show the superiority of the Capitol vs. the Districts.

I shut off the TV. Maybe after dinner I'll watch District 9 again. Everyone at work says that the Tributes look good, like they will actually have a chance, and that the guy is really handsome, even if "He is quite skinny..." or so says Winngaard.

Speaking of Winngaard, President Vandara did need a scientist Gamemaker to build mutts, and after reviewing everyone's applications, she chose Winngaard! Finally we get a new boss- hopefully less demanding than Winngaard! I was so glad that I didn't get chosen, because EVERYONE knows what happens to Gamemakers that fail to do a job that pleases the President. Maybe Winngaard will do horribly, and die a horrible death at the hands of his horrible mutts! Eee-hee-hee-hee!

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**That's all for now, folks! Next chapter should be up in a few hours, and if it isn't, you'll have to wait for Monday; I am being forced to compete in a judo tournament tomorrow (Sunday), and will probably be there all day. Yuck. **

**Anyway, Cinnamon has a knife to my throat and says to send in more competition, or the Author will be killed.**

**Cinnamon: "That's right! You want more chapters, send in tributes AND review! Otherwise the Author dies, the Co-Author dies, and the story dies with them!**


	4. District 9

**Just to make it clear, Katniss and Peeta did NOT lose their Games. They haven't even been born yet. Neither has Haymitch or President Snow. The Head Gamemaker is Plutarch's Great Grandfather. In this Universe, the Everlark Games come around as the 174th Hunger Games, and Haymitch won the 150th Hunger Games. Simply put, everything in the real Hunger Games books happens 100 years later than stated in the books. This goes for all charactors, places, and Victors.**

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**Also, I do not own the Hunger Games. Never have. Probably never will.**

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_**Aurora Austriallis, Capitolite (diary entry 1.2b)**_

After dinner, I watched the District 9 Reapings. Neither of the Tributes were anything special, just your normal Reapings. The only interesting thing was the Escort- Pterois Aquatica. He was dressed like a lionfish! The base of his outfit was a black and orange striped unitard, and over that he wore spikey things that were striped yellow and black. These spines had webbing between them, and were affixed to his whole back, but mainly his shoulders. His hair was, of course, black and reddish orange, but the red-orange was quite muted. His hair was also styled in a Mohawk, like the spines on the back of a lionfish. Ugh! Poor Pterois' outfit would have better served the District 4 Escort!

Anyhow, Pterois glided onto the Reaping stage and without any small talk or ceremony, shoved his orange-gloved hand into the Girl's Reaping Bowl. That's odd. I just noticed that the Girl's Reaping Ball is in the shape of a huge portion of a red bridge. It's one of those old types of suspension bridges, with two towers and a section of cords that contain a glass rectangle, which in turn contains all of the names. The Boy's Reaping Ball is the same. I wonder if these Reaping Balls have anything to do with the Skyscraper Bowls, or the Arena.

Back to business: Pterois shoved is hand into the Girl's Bridge and drew out a name, muttering "And our lucky female tribute for this year is... SUNDANCE TICIA!" From almost the back row, a tall _(I mean TALL, maybe 5'11?)_ girl in a crimson taffeta dress with an orange leather belt tremblingly made her way to the stage. Suddenly, a scream pierced the air. From the second row, a 13-year-old girl stood up. She wore a pale, rose pink jumper, and her eyes were wild. "NO!" she screamed. "SUNNY! YOU CAN'T GO!"

Sundance (or Sunny) froze. Then, recovering herself, she continued her slow march to the stage. The little girl ran towards her in a frenzy of panic. Out of nowhere, Peacekeepers appeared. Two grabbed the 13-year-old, and four Peacekeepers surrounded Sundance, ensuring that the little girl was not able to come close to the Tribute, her sister. The little girl made a break for it, trying to give her sister one last hug. The two Peacekeepers holding her would have nothing of it, though. Gripping her even more tightly, the Peacekeeper on her right grabbed his Stun-Stick, raised it high, and brought it down on the little girl's shoulders with an agonizing _SMACK!_

Sundance screamed. "RIVER!" The cry for her sister was wrenched from her gut, and, sobbing, she too tried to break free of the Peacekeepers surrounding her. It was a foolish thing to do. Luckily for Sundance, the Peacekeepers did not stun her; rather, they dragged her up to the stage steps and deposited her unceremoniously. Sunny staggered to her feet, futilely looked over her shoulder in the hopes of spotting her sister, and climbed the stairs.

Pterois was quite irritated by the whole thing. He glared at Sundance, and when she was finally in her place on stage, was quite rude in the way with he talked to her. "How old are you?" he snapped.

Sunny was quite distraught, but she managed to answer him in a worried tone. "Seventeen," she responded quietly.

"Louder!" Pterois commanded. The girl glared at him, and spoke in a voice that was calm as a pool of still water, yet suggested a raging current beneath. "I am seventeen," she thundered. Pterois glared at her again, and, growling, moved to the boys' Bridge/Bowl thing.

"Our lucky male tribute for this year is... Ahron Ember! Ahron Ember, please come to the stage QUICKLY."

A skinny young boy walked confidently toward the stage. Loud sobbing broke out in the outer rows, the ones that did not contain possible tributes. The camera zoomed in on a couple and daughter, huddled together and crying. _"They must be his parents,"_ I thought. _"The poor little girl."_

This time, there were no incidents with family members or Stun-Sticks. The boy walked calmly to the stage and climbed the steps. In the back row, the sobbing increased. Ahron swallowed (I could see his Adam's apple) and hardened his face to any emotions. _"Wow," _I thought,_ "He'll probably be a Tribute to reckon for!"_

Pterois, still glaring, asked Ahron for his age. Ahron, ever the perfect Tribute (how could he not be? His poor little sister is going to be left alone without a big brother, his parents are distraught, and the boy is obviously going to do as much as possible to survive- but he doesn't have a chance against the Careers!), cleared his throat, looked straight at the camera, and announced clearly, "Fifteen."

Finally satisfied, Pterois turned to the two tributes. "In honor of good sportsmanship, the two tributes WILL NOW SHAKE HANDS." Ahron turned to Sundance and stuck out his hand. Compared to her fancy dress, his simple, tan button-up shirt and dark brown pants looked cheap and faded. Sundance, seemingly bewildered, stuck out her hand too and shook with him. Pterois heaved and audible sigh of relief and herded the two Tributes off the stage and into the Justice Building. All in all, I thought that these District 9 tributes had a better chance than normal. Granted, they were rail-thin, but at least they looked fit and well fed instead of scrawny and starving! I do hope that these tributes go far.


	5. Another Half of District 11

**Still don't own the Hunger Games...**

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_**Aurora Austriallis, Capitolite (diary entry 1.1 complete)**_

I finally watched the male half of the District 11 Reapings! I can't believe I didn't write about it sooner, I forgot! Anyways, the boy was NOWHERE near as interesting as the girl. Speaking of Cinnamon, wasn't her outfit atrocious! There was a follow-up about her shirt in the news, and I found out that she hadn't been wearing anything so horrible when she had showed up at the sign-in table. Apparantly she wrote those horrible words on it, and probably during the Treaty of Treason. I hope her little sister isn't punished for it, but knowing President Vandara, she will probably be either made into an Avox or killed. It's sad, really. Sugar looked like such a sweet girl!

Back to the male Reapings: Vogue Embraer plunged her hand into the Reaping skyscraper and drew out a name. Looking up, she called the name into the microphone. "Coren Joss!"

Without hesitation, a boy stalked out of the backmost rows. He was wearing a light tan shirt, and a pair of simple dark brown slacks- it was such a relief to see that he wasn't wearing any contraband! He made his way to the stage without changing his expression in the least. Once next to the Escort, he seemed to freeze. Vogue stared at him, shocked. I can understand why; if I didn't know that this was District 11, I would think that he was a Career! Coren was built like a bull - tall, strong, and handsome. His eyes were a piercing bright blue, and when he stared straight at the cameras, I swear it was like he was looking right through me! I shivered at the sight of his tanned skin and shock of glossy black hair. Coren was a DREAMBOAT!

Vogue seemed to think so, too. She stared at him with eyes wide and mouth slightly open. It took the Mayor coughing for her to snap back to reality and ask Coren "How old are _you_, dreamy?" Coren, still emotionless (Gah, that's getting annoying. Why can't the guy show some enthusiasm? He gets to come to the Capitol! He should be rejoicing!), stated his age in a monotone. "Seventeen," he stated flatly. Then, without waiting for the bewildered Vogue, he turned faced his fellow tribute, shook her hand, and stepped to the microphone. "We are your Tributes for District 11 this year. Now, we go to our deaths. Thank you."

Vogue managed to focus in time to lead them off the stage and into the Justice Building. She seemed so shocked that the emotionless, robotic male tribute had dared to take over her position and announce that he and Cinnamon were the District Tributes. Serves her right for taking her time and zoning out on Coren!

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**Yes, I know that Coren sounds slightly familiar. Upon reading the Tribute submission, I noticed that he was almost a dead ringer for Thresh. Strong, tall, emotionless, African-American. So, I decided to modify him a little. My sincere apologies to Juggernaut661. Hopefully, people will get the moral of this lesson: no original Hunger Games tributes or look-alikes. From now on, anyone who seems like any HG originals will be severely modified. Thank you!**


	6. District 3

**The reason that the Reapings are not in any type of sensible order is because Aurora (the Capitolite) missed the original Reapings because of her boss. Hence, Aurora is watching the recorded Reapings in a willy-nilly order. That and I and my co-author have not only split up the districts, but have been doing the Reapings depending on how which Districts are full and which ones aren't. **

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Aurora Austriallis, Capitolite (diary entry 2.1)  
So, I took a nice long, hot bath before watching the district three reaping. I watched it with a box of fat free chocolates and a nice glass of red wine in hand. Good thing the chocolates were fat free, because I SO do not need any extra weight. I really need a hot boyfriend.

Anyway, the reaping in three was kind of interesting. The reaping bowls were the bridge thingies again, and the escort, Adrian Artisan, was soooo dreamy. He had a bronze tan, chocolate colored eyes, and brown hair so dark that it was almost black. He was wearing tight leather pants with black boots, a tight black shirt that promised at least a six-pack of abs, and a leather jacket. The only decoration he had was leather studded bracelets, black stud earrings, a lot more pierces on his face, and heavy black eyeliner. I didn't hear a word he said until he said this;

"I know almost everybody reaps the lovely ladies first, so I'm going got reap the boys first." He waggled his perfect eyebrows. I just about melted. He reached his ring-less left hand (score!) into the bridge- shaped reaping bowl.

"Viole Ro!" Heads turned in the crowd to the second row, where the thirteen-year-olds were. An Asian boy with shoulder length black hair wearing a navy blue shirt with black pants and black leather shoes, walked to the stage. He was only about five foot five and a slender kid. He was biting his lip. I could see tears in his black wide set eyes. His lip began to bleed.

"VIOLE!" A girl's voice cried out. Viole's head snapped to the direction of the voice. It was from a girl in the thirteen year old girls. I didn't get a good look at her before the camera switched back to Adrian. I didn't mind because, dang, that man was eye-candy.

"How old are you?" Adrian asked.

"Thirteen." Viole's voice was quiet.

"Next, we are going to have our female Tribute." Adrian plunged a hand into the bridge shaped reaping bowl. He took a paper out. "Roxy Larose!" Heads turned to the eighteen year olds.

"WAIT, I VOLUNTEER! I VOLUNTEER!" A frantic Asian girl ran out from the thirteen year olds. I nearly spit out my wine when I saw that she and Viole were identical! She was wearing a light yellow blouse with a high-waisted navy blue skirt, a pair of black leather shoes and a blue ribbon around her neck. She ran up to the stage.

"Well, it looks like we have a Volunteer." Adrian raised a pierced eyebrow. "What's your name?"

"Viola Ro. I'm thirteen years old." I couldn't help but notice that she took Viole's hand.

"Is Viole your twin brother?" Adrian asked.

"Yes."

"Ladies and gentlemen, your District 3 Tributes for the 99th Annual Hunger Games!" Then, just as that dreamy Escort was about to have the twin Tribute shake hands, my stupid ex- boss called AGAIN! Why won't he just leave me alone? I'm seriously thinking of blocking his number!

"Aurora, I need a favor..."

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**A/N (fri13girl): What's the favor going to be? Review/send in tributes to find out!**


	7. District 1

**I would like to notify everyone who reads this story about my first-ever one-shot. Just hoping that you would read and review it, cause we all know how disappointing it is to check day after day and see no reviews. Also, I need to know if it is worthy of keeping or if I need to delete it.**

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**_Aurora Austriallis, Capitolite (Diary entry 2.2)_**

WHY was Winngaard hired if he has to call me for mutt ideas? I mean seriously. THE PRESIDENT HERSELF came to hire someone, and that someone cannot even do HIS JOB? You know, I could report Winngaard to President Vandara, and then he would quit bugging me... On the other hand, if I knew a Gamemaker, I could bribe him into letting my tribute win. Maybe it was a good thing I helped him. Yes, that was the favour: mutt ideas. I really thought that Winngaard would have a more creative streak in him. He was hired as Master of Mutations, so he should also have a streak of sadism.

Anyway, I suggested Rabi-Raccoons. It's an idea I've had for a few years, ever since a Tribute got Rabies from a certain berry, and died before his mentor could send his ally the antidote. The main idea for the Rabi-Raccoons, or Rabicoons, is that their bite is infected with the rabies virus and whenever the Rabicoons see a tribute or other life-form other than another Rabicoon, they go insane and try to kill the creature immediately. The Rabicoons hunt in packs, like the squirrels from the 47th Hunger Games.

Then Winngaard called again to ask me out to dinner with him! Ewwww! I told him that I would rather have Adrian Artisan's number. Oh, he's the dreamiest!

Anyway, after my after breakfast shower (I tried a new lavender shampoo paired with a vanilla scented conditioner), I watched the District 1 Reapings!

I love the District 1 Reapings because the people there have an actual fashion sense, and really cool names. Also, the tributes are actually attractive. It's so unlike District 12, where they look like walking corpses, and their clothes are really dirty and gross! Well, I guess that's what you would expect from the coal District.

This year, the Escort Kameryn Sapphire had dyed her hair sapphire blue again. It was quite a shame; really, as her long caramel colored hair is so pretty. I tell her that all of the time! She was actually one of my childhood friends, and she still comes around for dinner or lunch sometimes.

At the Reaping, she was wearing THE MOST GORGEOUS dress. It was sparkly and matched her hair. In the front, it went to just below her knees, and in the back it went to her ankles. On Kameryn's feet, there were a pair of six inch silver stiletto heels with blue sapphires all over them (I simply MUST borrow them!). She was wearing a diamond and sapphire dangle earrings with a matching necklace, and she had red lipstick on.

"Helll-llllo District 1!" Kameryn called out her signature line. "It is that time of year again! Time for the Ninety-ninth Annual Hunger Games! Now, we are going to see who our lucky two tributes are for this year's Hunger Games!" Kameryn strutted to the female's reaping bowl which was shaped like some sort of concrete building with a lot of little windows with bars over them.

"Ladies first, as usual." She reached into the bowl, buried her hand in deep, and pulled out a paper. As she was walking over to the microphone, she unfolded the slip.

"Mavis Araden," Kameryn called out. Heads turned towards the fifteen year old girls. To one blonde head in particular. She shrunk in fright.

"I volunteer!" A girl from the seventeen year olds stepped out. "I volunteer as tribute." The camera zoomed in on the girl. She had waist length brown hair. It was wavy and TO DIE FOR. Well, her body type too. She looked like one of those super models! Even her height was that of a supermodel- she looked six foot! I would have killed for a few of her inches (I'm not even 5'5!).

Anyway, the girl had a gorgeous pink dress that was covered in sequins. It hugged her body in all of the right places, and sent my self-esteem flying out the window. As the girl walked onto the stage, her dress glinted and flickered in the sunlight. Well, she more so strutted than walked. She was giving Kameryn a run for her money, and believe me, that is not an easy thing to do.

"What's your name?" Kameryn asked. The girl tossed her hair over her shoulders before answering.

"Taffeta Royden, and yes, I'm related to Velvet Royden; she's my older sister." She rolled her green eyes with a smirk. (OH MY GOSH VELVET WAS THE VICTOR OF THE 93rd HUNGER GAMES! ANOTHER TRIBUTE FROM THE SAME FAMILY!)

"How old are you Taffeta?" Kameryn asked. Taffeta looked into the camera with her bright green eyes. It was almost like she was looking into my soul.

"I am seventeen." Taffeta smoothed her dress over her hips. Her wide hips. Dang, she has wider hips than I do! I need to schedule an appointment to see if I can get that fixed…

"And now for our male tribute." Kameryn strutted over to the boys' reaping bowl.

She stirred the bowl with her hand, building up the suspense. Hmm, maybe I should be an Escort… Kameryn could teach me all I need to know. And as a bonus, I would have more of a chance with Adrian Artisan.

Kameryn smirked and slowly brought out a piece of folded paper. She was clearly trying to drag it out. Ah, Kameryn! Ever the drama queen, and basically my idol. She walked to the microphone. She unfolded the paper.

"Rolden Tapenon," Kameryn announced. A loud sobbing could be heard. People looked at the thirteen year old section.

"I volunteer as tribute," said a really handsome who guy swaggered out from the seventeen year olds section. He was tall, lean and muscular, and his wavy blonde hair was a mess, like he'd just rolled out of bed. When I got out of bed, my hair was always in a French braid to avoid that kind of thing. For some reason, messy hair looked better on men than it did women.

"So… um... What's your name?" Kameryn looked distracted when he was standing next to her.

"Blake Stonem," His ice blue eyes pierced through the television screen. I grew a happy and vacant smile on my face, but then I caught myself.

"And, uh, how old are you... Blake?" Kameryn shed a drop of perspiration. Oh, how the sun was must have been beating down on her. That, or she had a humongous crush on Blake. I'm thinking the latter, because seriously, let's face it- he was a looker.

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**And thank you for reading the newest Reaping Chapter! Next should be District 2, so we'll have fun there. Thanks to all who submitted Tributes, favored/followed, and reviewed (will Dark Clouds on a Stormy Night please re-review so I can find out if I have fixed my mistakes)!**

**Also, people who submitted more than one Tribute are more likely to have their tributes die quickly. This is not a threat, simply a warning so no-one gets too mad.**


	8. Half of District 2

**Sorry for the small inconvenience of my story being removed! Thankfully, I am back up and at it, and hoping that none of my stories will ever be removed again. Anyway, here is the next chapter, so please enjoy!**

**Also, for anyone who hasn't checked it out, I have a oneshot that looks pretty lonely compared to this story. So, I'm proposing a deal. Anyone who reads and reviews said oneshot will receive a read and review on any story of theirs, or a pm in thanks if none of your stories are on topics that I know anything about. Thank you!**

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_**Aurora Austriallis, Capitolite (diary entry 2.3)**_

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SO, after my diary got deleted by a virus on my computer and I was able to use my backup documents to restore everything, I watched the District 2 Reapings. I needed some relaxation. The reason I chose the District 2 Reapings?

Simple. District 2 is the ultimate District when it comes to Reapings. Everything is so orderly, neat, controlled, and calming. The Capitol, although more glorious than any District, is still filled with its hustle and bustle - that's why I actually like the Districts' scenery better than that of the Capitol. Visiting District 2 always has a calming effect on me, so when I'm stressed I watch District 2 Reapings from over the years. Afterwards, I am always very relaxed, and I can think clearly again.

ANYWAYS, District 2 was just as interesting as usual. The Escort (one of my _best_ friends since, like, we had the same semi-private style tutor together), Lyric Utrymme, was dressed in an absolutely sensible outfit. Instead of the wacky, weird costumes that most Escorts wear, Lyric had on a deep burgundy pencil skirt that came to just below her knees, and a pure white blouse that had ruffles down the front. Her blouse was tightly fitted, and it showed off her short, wiry, curvy body to her advantage. Lyric was sitting next to the previous Victors. She was chatting quietly with Mercy Keen, the Victor from last years' games. I've always found Mercy's name quite interesting- Mercy. The name conjures an image of someone meek and afraid, and she was the absolute opposite of that at the end of her Games.

Her Arena was set in a re-creation of Madagascar, complete with flesh-eating lemurs who tore Tributes apart, snarled, hunted, and were extremely protective of their territory. Anyway, the whole Career pack, oddly enough, kept together till the final five. The only surviving Tributes were the pair from District 1, the female from District 4, Mercy, and a Tribute from Six. The Careers, after killing the District 6 male one night, decided that they would sleep as a group for just once more. In the morning, they would fight to decide who would have the honor of winning and killing the girl from Six. Sadly, we never got to see that final fight. Mercy had already captured the girl from Six and had her bound and gagged in the rock pile nearby.

After everyone was asleep, Mercy carefully lined the rest of the Careers up till their heads were in a straight, equal line. Taking her katana, Mercy chopped off the heads of all three Careers in one blow. The next morning, Mercy tied the only remaining tribute to the Cornucopia and killed her with an old technique called "ling-chi" - a Chinese process that involved making a series of cuts on the victim until they bled out. She made sure to give the audience a good show, and was well rewarded for it. I hear that the President Vandara actually promised that Mercy's younger siblings, Passion (female) and Pride (male), would never be in the Reaping. ANYWAYS! Back to the MAIN TOPIC!

Right after the Mayor (also dressed in a deep burgundy suit, with a white tie- hmmm, they must have communicated beforehand) read the Treaty of Treason, Lyric stepped up to the stage, shook the Mayor's white-gloved hand, and minced her way up to the microphone.

"Ah, ladies and gentlemen! Boys and Girls! Possible Tributes! How can I say how nice it is to get back to this lovely District? Oh, wait... I know! The Capitol is absolutely gorgeous, but always, right about a week before the glorious Games, I get this... itch to escape the wondrous hustle and bustle of the Capitol! That's why, whenever it's finally time for me to board the train to come and perform this honor called the Reapings, I am so glad to get out here to District 2!

Anyways, I should probably start the Reapings, so we can see just which daring young people will volunteer!"

With this last statement, Lyric plunged her hand into the Reaping bowl -it was shaped like a bridge again, so I'm certain that the Arena has a city theme. Dramatically swirling her hand around the bridge-bowl, she pulled out three slips of paper. Lyric theatrically, slowly, allowed the two outer slips to fall to the bowl again, leaving only the center slip between her fingertips. Opening the slip was just as overdramatic, and even though I knew that the name on the slip would most likely not be the same as the name of the Tribute actually going into the Arena, I was on the edge of my couch. Finally, Lyric read the name. "Mirianna Velkoulter!"

A tall, thin girl sauntered out of the center of the girl's side of the barrier. Her thick, smooth hair was a deep red, and it had bleached white tips, which I really liked; the overall effect was very sophisticated. The redhead was wearing a pure white dress, unless you counted the skirt. The hem came to just below her knees, but that wasn't what caught my eye - the interesting detail about her dress was that it was dyed a deep red at the bottom and gradually grew lighter the nearer to the waist you looked. It was the exact opposite of her hair.

As soon as the redhead stood in the middle of the aisle, she looked up at the stage and stated clearly, "I volunteer in place of Mirianna Velkoulter. Does anyone wish to challenge me?"

No-one spoke. "Good," stated the redhead. Then she continued her slow saunter (the swaying of her hips did nothing but favor her perfect hourglass shape) all the way up to the stage, up the stairs, and to the Escort. Here she stopped and waited for Lyric to ask her how old she was, and what her name was. Lyric, the Escort for the last seven years, was not startled by this teenage girl. She looked at the redhead and asked the awaited questions. "What's your name? How old are you?"

The redhead was all too happy to answer these questions. "My name," she drawled, "Is Candle. Candle Saunteir, and I am fifteen."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Candle. You don't mind if we pull the cameras off of you just long enough to find our male tribute, do you?"

"Not at all, Lyric. Please, do proceed with the utmost haste: I want to meet my opponent!"

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**I will upload the rest of this chapter later, because I haven't done it yet. The only reason you are getting only half of the chapter is because I feel really bad about not updating in a LOOOONG while. **

**Oh, and Lya200, I believe that I know how to remove reviews. Just to make sure, please post a non-tribute post that I will attempt to delete. If I cannot delete said review, do not send in your tributes yet. **


	9. The Other Half of District 2

**And now, for our second half of District 2!**

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Lyric once again plunged her hand into the Reaping Bowl. This time, however, instead of skimming her hand over the top layer of slips, Lyric dug her hand all the way to the bottom. Suddenly, startlingly, she yanked her hand out and raised a slip high above her head. Just as startlingly, she brought her hand crashing down and stopped it right before she hit the Bowl.

When she opened the slip, she pulled it so hard that it made a snapping sound, not unlike that of a belt landing against a leather couch. I almost laughed; here was the old violent Lyric for you. It was as though she was acting the part of a man, as opposed to when she was simply overdramatic during the girl's Volunteering.

Lyric started to read the name on the slip. "Erstov Go-"

A deep voice began to resonate throughout the Square. "I Volunteer!"

Right after the deep voice rang out, a high pitched battle cry tore through the air. "No! I Volunteer!"

The anguished cry came from the same area as the first voice. A small fight was happening, but the cameras weren't able to zoom in fast enough. Almost as quickly as it had started, the fight was over and the winner was on his way to the stage.

He stepped out of the 18-year-old section and raised his hand, repeating "I Volunteer!" The boy was super muscular, but only of an average height. His short, dirty blonde hair was so stiffly spiked that I thought anyone who touched it would begin bleeding profusely, and his eyes were of that wintery-ice color that appears to be common this year. A long scar stood out brightly from his light tan as it ran across his face, starting at his left eyebrow, sliding across his nose, and ending near the right side of his mouth.

The boy wore a pair of grey slacks, a white shirt that was messily tucked in (a little bit here, a little bit there), and a grey tie. Really, he would have looked better in a pair of black slacks and a shirt that matched his eyes. It would have brought out his features so well!

Anyways, the Volunteer made his way to the stage quickly, much more quickly than his counterpart Candle. Within a minute of volunteering, he was on the stage. He stepped up to the microphone and waited for Lyric to ask his name and age. Lyric, not wanting to waste any more time under the beating sun (the day was clear, bright, and HOT- District 2 is pretty close to a desert, 'cause that's the best place for them to craft their stones), did not hesitate as she stated, "Please! Do tell us your name and age!"

The boy stared out over the crowd and stated that his name was "Mars Everett," and he was "Eighteen." Gosh, he was even worse than that boy from Eleven! Mars was just as emotionless as Coren, and almost as handsome!

Lyric looked disappointed with Mars' lack of enthusiasm. "Well," she stated into the microphone with some underlying tone that resembled frustration, "HERE are our Tributes for this year's annual HUNGER GAMES!" She turned to the Tributes. "Please, shake hands, dears. There, perfect." Now she directed her attention to the audience. "I thank you, District 2, for your magnificent Tributes! Happy Hunger Games!"

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**And that is the end of District 2. Sorry it was so short; at least the first half of this District was much longer! Lya200, you can now re-send your Tributes. I need the District 5 Female and the District 10 Male. Thank you!**


	10. District 4

_**Not much to say here except...**_

_**President Vandara Vetrios:**_ **I need the last few Tributes. Hurry, I think only one spot is left. Oh, and I do not own this idea, these Hunger Games. All credit goes to the very first President after the Dark Days, President Susan Collins. Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor.**

**Me, Fri13Girl: YIPES! What is the President of Panem doing here! Anyways, it's a great honor, and yeah. What she said about ownership.**

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_**Aurora Austriallis, Capitolite (diary entry number... unknown.)**_

I swear; I either need to get a prescription for sleeping pills or go get the cheap ones from the drugstore! I had trouble falling asleep last night. When I finally fell asleep, I had... let's just call them dreams that I'm not going to describe for reasons that... I'm not going to describe.

Anyway, I woke up exactly four hours, fifty-seven minutes, eight seconds, and forty-eight hundredths of a second after I fell asleep. Why did I wake up? My phone was ringing. And of course, I answered it.

"Hello?" I asked. I was tired and it was two in the morning.

"So you want to come to my place?" Some random guy's whose voice was on the other end of the line asked.

"Who is this?" I asked.

"Oh, um, this is awkward." The guy sounded embarrassed. "Sorry, wrong number." I hit end and tried to go back to sleep. Unfortunately, I couldn't. Cursing the idiot who got the wrong number under my breath, I wandered around my apartment. Seeing my old-time books about princesses and princes, I paged through them. It didn't do any good cheering me up, or even making me sleepy. All it did was depress me because the all princesses had handsome princes, and I was single. Frustrated, I threw the books to the side and picked up the remote.

I decided to watch the District 4 Reapings. I needed the sunshine to cheer me up along with a mug of hot chocolate with whipped cream. So, mug in hand, I watched the Reapings, throwing in commentary.

The escort, Noralinda Peach was wearing a sexy sparkly salmon colored cocktail dress (whoa there, me, gay moment. What I was saying was that it wasn't exactly modest!). She was what, nineteen? I wouldn't even wear a dress like that if you paid me!

Anyway, she was all decked out in emerald jewelry (doesn't really go with the salmon dress and her hair coloring, which is a shiny black). Noralinda had light makeup on, unlike a lot of the people in my building. By the way, I read in the tabloids that Noralinda was caught on a date with the famous singer Brent Jacobs! He is a true heartthrob! He has these gorgeous dimples that make practically every girl's knees go weak... Oh, she's so lucky.

Ok, back to the District 4 Reapings. Noralinda was wearing these six inch heels since she's so short. Only about four foot eleven. Dang, I never thought I'd be glad to be five-three. I guess we have the same idea because I'm rarely seen without high heels. At least I have amazing hair to make up for being so short…

Wow, I get off topic easily…

"Welcome to the District 4 Reapings!" Noralinda said with her pearly white grin, her glittery lip gloss shining and winking in the sun. Her hair and eye shadow was glittering like the ocean behind her, and I was pretty sure that Noralinda must have coordinated her outfit sparkles with her backgrounds' shimmering, because they worked perfectly together. "It is that time of year again... Time for the Ninety-ninth Hunger Games!" The people of District 4 began cheering.

"As you know, we need two Tributes. One male Tribute and one female Tribute, so let's see who our female Tribute is!"

Ever so slowly, Noralinda walked to the Reaping bowl which was sort of in the shape of a stadium. It caved in like a funnel and opened up so that Noralinda could put her hand in. In the caved in part, there were tiny red and gold dots.

Noralinda plunged her gloved hand in and pulled out a piece of paper. I don't know how, but I fell asleep just then. When I woke up, the recording was done. I face palmed. How could I fall asleep at such a suspenseful moment? When I woke up again, it was five in the morning. Well, at least I got in a few more hours of sleep, but before watching the rest of the District 4 Reapings, I did a bit of meditation. It relaxes me in the mornings.

I still felt stupid for falling asleep, but I was grateful for the extra hours of sleep. When I finally got back to watching the Reapings, it was about five forty-five in the morning.

Noralinda was reaching into the girls' Reaping bowl. She pulled the paper out and made her way to the microphone, unfolding the paper as she walked.

"Mistle Lou," Noralinda called out. The camera zoomed on a red head in the seventeen year old girl area. One head was moving to the edge. When I saw her, at first I thought she was a boy. That poor girl needs implants in the worst way possible - her chest was as flat as a sidewalk!

Mistle had long red hair pulled back into a ponytail. She was wearing a wrinkled white shirt with a collar, and a black pencil skirt with low black wedges. The camera zoomed in on her face. She looked slightly surprised, but when she began to smirk, all surprise was wiped off of her face. Soon, Mistle reached the microphone, and when she did, her face and bright green eyes were devilishly dangerous.

"So, Mistle, how old are you?" Noralinda asked.

"I am seventeen." The smirk stayed on her face.

"And now for the male Tribute." Noralinda strode to the boys' Reaping bowl and sank her gloved hand into a Reaping bowl identical to the girls'. She fished out a piece of paper and dragged out going to the microphone even more than the first time.

Mistle Lou rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her flat chest. You could almost see her thinking _"Oh, hurry up already!"_

"And our male Tribute is… Quinlin Davis." Noralinda called out.

"I volunteer as Tribute." A boy swaggered out. I nearly burst out laughing when I saw that he was wearing practically the same outfit as Mistle Lou, except his shirt wasn't wrinkled, and he was wearing pants instead of a skirt. The shirt was clearly ironed silk.

The boy was tall, well-built and tan. His blonde hair was towards the left. He had a laid-back smile on his lips. He mounted the steps and stood next to Noralinda.

"So, what's your name?" She asked.

"Axl Floyd," Axl replied with a smirk. His blue eyes sparkled.

"So Axl, how old are you?" Noralinda asked. I noticed that Mistle was watching Axl. Ooh, looks like someone has a little crush!

"Seventeen," Axl replied, without missing a beat. Now that I think about it, he and Mistle wouldn't make a bad couple… That is, if Mistle doesn't have a boyfriend and Axl doesn't have a girlfriend.

"So, District 4! Here are your Tributes for the Ninety-ninth Annual Hunger Games!" Noralinda smiled. She was probably thinking about Brent Jacobs and his oh-so-dreamy-smile... Lucky Escorts! They always have the best boyfriends or girlfriends, respectively.

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**So, how'd everyone like District 4? I might be able to get another update in here before tomorrow, but I'm not promising anything...**


	11. District 5

**Sorry for the slight confusion in Aurora's personality and perspective. Yes, I do have a co-author, and yes, she did write District 4. She and I have conversed and we have decided that I will now write Reapings, and after that... We'll figure something out. Sorry again for the confusion, and enjoy the Games to come!**

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Aurora Austriallis, Capitolite

Not much happened after I watched the District 4 Reapings, and I had the day off, so I decided to watch the District 5 Reapings. It's always fun to watch District 5 because the Escort for the last fourteen years, Galia (pronounced Gal-_**LI**_-ah) Keukatan, goes against tradition and always reaps the boys before the girls. But... I guess that she's not going against tradition if she does the exact same thing for over a decade, because by then whatever she does is a tradition. Oh well.

I snuggled up in the corner of my oh-so-soft chocolate brown reading chair with a glass of ice-cold cinnamon rice-milk in one hand and the TV remote in the other hand. Flipping on the TV, I got ready to watch Galia repeat her fourteen-year-old ritual.

This year, Galia was dressed in a bright yellow sheath that only had one strap. The continual wind whipped her dandelion-yellow hair around her face, and Galia's freaky orange eyes glittered with frustration. Not long after the Mayor started reading the Treaty of Treason, Galia had out her mirror out and was pulling her hair up in a high ponytail that danced and writhed in the wind. I really don't know why she doesn't ever put her hair up; the same thing happens every year and she ALWAYS ends up putting her hair up into a ponytail.

Soon, the Mayor finished droning and it was Galia's turn to take the microphone. She strutted up to the Reaping Bowl, which was shaped like a Tower with a fireman's nozzle as the very top, and without any speaking, shoved her hand into the tower. Pulling out a name was no hard task, and suddenly she was at the microphone. I knew what would happen next; I think everyone did.

Galia opened her mouth wide and yelled "Ehlllooooooooooow Diiiiiiistric Fiiiiiiivvvvve! Welcome, welcome to the Annual Reaping for the Annual HUNGER GAMES! In my hand, I hold a slip of paper. This slip holds the name of the lucky Male Tribute who will have the HONOR of representing you, the ESTEEMED District 5! Who wants to know who the lucky man is?"

Galia looked appreciatively around the Square, where a low cheer was going up. The people of District 5 may have dreaded the Reapings, but they apparently did not see any reason to be mean to the Escort.

Galia, turning back to the mike, hushed the crowd. "Now," she announced, "Your lucky Tribute is... NIKLASS HADESHAN!"

Almost immediately, a young boy with brilliant brown eyes stepped out of the fourteen-year-old section. Oddly enough, he was smiling and waving to the crowd and cameras! Who would have known that a Tribute from District 5 would be happy to compete in the Hunger Games? Don't get me wrong, all Tributes should be happy to have the honor of being allowed to experience the hospitality of the Capitol, but District 5 is normally Bloodbath fodder- crying, weepy, shivering, and skinny. This kid was different.

Even the best of us must come to misfortune sometime though. That blasted wind picked up, almost knocking the skinny kid over, and succeeding in blowing away his top hat, ruffling his bright red-brown hair. Yes, a high, black-silk-looking TOP HAT. His bright red coattails flapped and snapped in the forceful breeze as he chased the hat, and I saw Peacekeepers fighting to keep from laughing as they stood around the square watching. I was laughing also, but for a different reason. Galia looked like a pufferfish; her lips were so pursed and squeezed!

Eventually, Niklass caught his top hat. He restarted his march to the stage, still laughing, smiling and waving. When he finally reached the stage, Galia laughed out loud. I could see why; Niklass was wearing the most outrageous outfit! As I said before, he had on a black silk top hat and a ringmaster's jacket that was red instead of black. That wasn't all, though! In addition to the already insane outfit, Niklass's pants were a dark red with bright yellow trim, and his button-up shirt was the same brilliant yellow the trim on his pants. Just imagine the picture. Don't forget the brilliant red jacket!

My eyes hurt by the time Galia was done with the required questions - name ("Niklass Hadeshan, madam, but please call me Nic") and age ("An honest fourteen,"). Did I mention that Nic was wearing a sequined red tie that simply illuminated the whole square in a dazzling display of color and positively BURNED my eyeballs?

Galia seemed as though she too was having the same problem as I; her eyes were now pursed and squeezed instead of her mouth. It appeared as though she was exceedingly overjoyed to be finally allowed to turn away from the glare and confusion of Nic Hadeshan's suit.

She swiveled toward the girl's Reaping Tower and delicately let her hand drift into the opening at the top. Pulling out a name, she sauntered back to the microphone. "And your luck Tribute i-_i_-ssss... Roxy La Rose! Roxy dear, wherever you are, please come up to the stage!"

A thin girl slowly glided out of the girl's section. In addition to her plain brown hair and black fitted jumpsuit, her face was utterly depressing. Her eyes stared hollowly out at the cameras, and I thought my heart would break just from looking at her. Galia smiled at her gently as she slowly mounted the steps for the stage. "Over here, darling," were the barely heard words that issued from her mouth.

Roxy finally reached the microphone. As she slid into place next to Galia, a little more of her seemed to die. Then, she stiffened, re-plastering a dull look on her face, and waited for the Escort to ask her the dreaded questions.

"What's your name, dearie?"

"Roxy La Rose. That's what you read off the slip, right?" The words were stated in a complete monotone.

"Well, yes, but you could be like little Nic here and have a nickname! How old are you?"

"Eighteen."

"Well, District 5, here are your Tributes! Please, give them a round of applause while they shake hands!"

The Tributes shook hands and turned, headed to the Justice Building, with Nic still smiling and waving to the cameras and Roxy staring glumly at the ground.

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**That's all, folks. Thanks for reading, and please send in the female tributes for Districts 6 and 10.**

**FUN FACT: Aurora Austriallis is only half Capitolite. Her mother married a District 11 man named Rygg Drivens and was able to bring him to the Capitol. He adopted Aurora's grandmother's maiden name, Austriallis. Soon after marriage, Rygg and his wife Hekrine had a beautiful baby girl that they named Aurora. Both parents are still living, and Aurora does not know that she is only half Capitolite.**


	12. District 12

**I am sincerely sorry for the super late update. I will try to give you a really good chapter, and Fri13Girl is working on District 6!**

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I'm about to watch District 12 - I need something to take my mind off of the date I just had with Winngaard. Yeah. Winngaard. Don't judge me; I only went out to dinner with him. I need a favor.

See, I've watched almost all of the Reapings now. The only ones I have left (after this District) are Districts 6, 8, and 10. Ooh, it's almost time for me to write the Parade! Yay!

Oh yeah. My dinner. So I called Winngaard (we're on a first-name basis now, so I'll call him Lector from now on) and asked him if he wanted to go to dinner. OF COURSE he said yes, so I put on a really sultry dress (blue with silver accents, like my hair - it's dyed dark navy blue with beautiful silver streaks. It looks kinda like a winter wonderland!) that showed off my curves really well. I also applied a light coating of dark blue eye shadow to contrast my (duh) silver eyes. I couldn't wait to ask him about the Arena and Mutts!

When I got to the Speidelli Restaurant, a quaint pasta place, Lector was already there, holding a table for two. He gasped when he saw me, and I was actually surprised to see him also. He had actually lost weight! He must have gone through that new surgery called RE-DUCIO! that completely eradicates all unnecessary fat in your body.

I ordered the fettuccini alfredo, an old but classic dish that never failed to satisfy. We ate for a while, then Lector brought up the Mutts I had suggested.

"Madame President absolutely loved the idea of Rabicoons. She said that they would go perfectly with this year's slightly urban arena, and she gave me the go-ahead! I just want to thank you, Aurora, for saving me. If there's anything I can ever do for you, anytime, please tell me. Even if it means an Arena favor..."

I giggled slightly. "Oh, Lector, you do flatter me. Really, it wasn't that hard. I've had that idea for a long time, and was just very happy to be able to finally have the idea used! Did you say an "urban" setting?"

"Oh, not really," he sighed, no doubt a result of much hard work and many stressful nights. "The arena has a little bit of an urban area, but not much. There's a bunch of water, a really cool bridge that's been somewhat rigged, a huge park, and some of those old cars. You know, the ones that run off of a system? I can't remember what they are called, but they have been outfitted with mutts and the antidotes to the mutt venom. This Arena is nothing compared to the Quarter Quell Arena for next year, though. That one's going to be awesome!"

"Why don't you tell me about it?" I purred. He looked at me doubtfully as I refilled his wine glass. "I dunno," he slurred slightly. "If I tell too much, I'm dead already. Can't tell too many state secrets, and Arenas count as state secrets."

Mentally, I scowled. How can he not tell me? I need him to! It will be necessary to the survival of my favorite tribute once I have a favorite tribute!

I decided that it was time to convince Lector to go home. If I could just get him to tell me exactly where the Arena was set, I would be golden.

I poured more wine into his glass in a futile effort to get him talk more before we left. It didn't do any good, and he paid the waiter. "Time to go home, darlin'," his voice woke me from my reverie. I had been thinking about the few clues I had been given about the Arena. Too bad I hadn't been able to get a few more...

So he dropped me off at my house. It had been a weird evening, and I needed a break, so I watched the Reapings. I decided on District 12, because they are always anti-climactic, and I needed something to calm me down. Strange, isn't it? Watching children go to their deaths is calming for me.

So I turned my TV onto my recording of the District 12 Reapings. I'd started the recording a little late, so I missed the Treaty of Treason and the Escort's speech. The only part I got to see was actual Reaping, so I settled into my deep chair and relaxed.

On the screen, the Escort, Clayton Maciel, plunged his hand into the Reaping... shark? This Reaping bowl was shaped like a shark standing on its tail. His mouth was wide open, and the sides were just clear enough that you could see the slips of paper crowding together inside. Maybe it was a hint of the mutts in the arena... I'll have to watch out for that.

Clayton slowly drew a slip out of the shark. He brought it up slowly, the corners well defined against his black vest and his grey button-down shirt. Moving to the microphone, he opened the slip and read it loudly and clearly, with no dramatics. Just two words came boldly out of his mouth: "Marian Hallchanser!"

A girl started moving toward the stage as if in a dream, and she looks as though she is caught in a daze. Eventually, she makes it to the stage and stands next to Clayton. He looks down at her with an expression of compassion. I can understand why; her metallic gold dress is faded and patched in many placed with what looks like denim. Her stringy black hair was long and thin, but it looked as though she had made an effort to clean herself up for the Reaping. Imagine that- an outlier, a poor one at that, who tried to dress up for the Reapings! How sweet is that?

Anyways, Clayton looked down at her and in a low tone asked "How old are you, darling?"

She looked up at him and flashed all of her fingers once, then held up seven more. "I'm sorry?" He said. "I don't quite understand. Could you please STATE how old you are?"

She shook her head. Then she pulled out a notebook and pencil from a pocket in her dress. I couldn't see what she was writing, but she handed the paper to Clayton. "I have never been able to speak, but I am seventeen," he read slowly. Then he stared at her sadly. "I'm so sorry," he muttered. "I didn't know."

Clayton walked back to the other Reaping shark and repeated the process. After walking back to the microphone, he read the name for the boy. "Harrison Baleiv!"

A commotion began in the middle section of the square. After the camera focused on that spot, and I could see people pushing a small, thin, sickly boy in dirty mining overalls and shaggy brown hair toward the stage. He looked so confused until the Peacekeepers surrounded him. As soon as they did, you could see the confusion leave his face and realization set in. Once he was jerked onto the stage, he started to cry. The sounds he made were unearthly.

Clayton looked distressed, whether or not it was because he had two completely weak tributes or because the boy was crying, I don't know. He bent down and helped the quivering boy up. "How old are you?" he asked hesitantly. The boy didn't answer, he just kept sobbing. Clayton looked even more distressed.

Suddenly, he jumped. From behind him, I saw Marian hand him another page from her notebook. He glanced at it and thanked her with his eyes, nodding in appreciation. He walked to the microphone and read the paper aloud.

"Harrison is fourteen, and deaf, like I am mute. He can't hear anything, not even loud sounds."

He smiled brightly at the crowd. "Well, folks, here are your tributes for District 12! Let's applaud our tributes and have a Happy Hunger Games! See you again next year!"

I noticed that he did not have the Tributes shake hands... probably because he didn't want any more difficulty. Anyway, I hadn't been sufficiently relaxed, so I decided to watch the District 6 Reapings next. They might have a little less agitated Reaping...

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**I *cowers in shame, covers face in humiliation* am a fan of One Direction. How bad is that?**


	13. District 6

**I own nothing! And I'm sorry to have taken so long to update- don't expect an update this weekend, because I will be at Angel Island on Saturday and jam writing a paper on Friday! Sunday is polish day for the same paper, so EVERYTHING is full... sorry.**

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DISTRICT 6

After getting one of my rare glasses of scotch from the kitchen, I settled back into my cushy couch and curled tight. Unpausing the District 6 Reapings, I took a sip of my scotch. It was smooth and warmed my throat as it went down. I decided that tonight did not have to be as stressful and irritating as I had originally thought it would be.

The scene that my video started with was that of the Mayor reading the Treaty of Treason. Once again, he droned on and on about the days before Panem "rose from the ashes, ringed by thirteen magnificent districts" and about how "then came the dark days." Finally, he came to the very last line: "This is how we remember our past. This is how we safeguard our future." FINALLY! HE WAS DONE!

That Mayor must have one of the absolute best monotones in the entire country of Panem. I was glad to see the Escort, Cameron Cain, stand up from his seat. You remember that Escort Aiden Artesian? Black hair, pale skin, black clothes, piercings? How I said he was eye candy? I've changed my mind. Cameron Cain and Clayton Maciel are the two Escorts that I have my eye on. Cameron has such dreamy blond hair, he's my age, and his skin is tanned perfectly. His eyes are a kind of dusky blue with green streaks, and he's such a gentleman! I've seen him around, even talked to him a few times. I really like him.

Clayton, on the other hand, I've known since I was three -he's a year older than I. Our parents knew each other, and his older sister, Chloe, and I are best friends, despite the four-year age gap. Clayton used to be this absolute gentleman, but he's changed now. Three years ago he was the most studious young man I've ever met. Now, he's got an absolute WITCH for a girlfriend (she's over-controlling, and won't even let him talk to his sister unless Madison gives him permission!), he parties, and he doesn't take anything seriously! I want to know what happened- I've been in love with him for the last nine years. I just started to get over him in January earlier this year, and ten months later, I've almost gotten to where I can see him without starting to cry.

Anyway, Cameron was dressed in his normal camouflage suit, and the unbuttoned jacket flapped around him in the breeze. I watched in adoration as he stepped over to the Reaping bowls.

He dipped his hand into the Reaping bowl - shaped like a giant black-wrapped square candy that had the words "Midnight Reverie" on it in gold letters- another clue to the Arena, perhaps? Anyhoo, he drew out a name and sauntered over to the microphone.

"Alaina Midnight!" What a coincidence, eh? A "Midnight" Reaping candy and a "Midnight" tribute!

A girl walked out of the farthest row confidently. The wind whipped her glossy shoulder-length black hair and tattered white dress about her with force, and I thought for sure she would be blown away, she was that skinny (well, not so much skinny as just slim; none of her bones were jutting out of her cheeks, so I guess she had what is called a willowy body). Her dusty black boots were clearly visible below the ripped hem of her dress, and her overall appearance was quite shabby. The one thing that stuck out was her dark grey eyes - they looked stormy, like the eyes of the mythological goddess of old, Athena.

She soon reached the stage and Cameron, propelled quickly by her confident step. Once she was standing right next to him, he looked over at her (did I mention he's only about 5'8?) and asked the same questions he asks every year. "How old are you? What's your name?"

Alaina stared at him for a second. Was it just me, or did her face falter? I guess it doesn't matter, because a few seconds later, she was answering him. "My name is Alaina Midnight. I'm seventeen. Can you hurry up?"

Cameron stared at her in disbelief. "Well aren't you enthusiastic?"

"No," she stated quietly. "Just bored. We all know that District 6 doesn't normally last long in the Games, so can you just draw the boy so I can go eat some Capitol food?"

Cameron grinned at her, and walked over to the same Reaping candy again. I guess that it had a divider in it, because he slipped his hand into the other side of chocolate and pulled out another name and waltzed over to the microphone again. "Harley Chang" was the only thing that issued from his lips.

A boy from the same general location that Alaina had come from laughed and walked to the stage. His bad attempt at a Mohawk jiggled slightly in the gentle breeze that had come about after the roaring wind, and his unappealing yellowed skin was translucent and thin. His eyes had large dark bags underneath them, and nose was red and irritated. When he made it to the stage and was standing by Cameron, I could see that his eyes were bloodshot and red. His arms were covered in puncture stabs, and his fingernails were dirty and overgrown.

The Escort looked at him with distaste. "And you are how old?..."

Harley laughed out loud. "I'm Harley. Call me Lee. And I'm seventeen. Never thought I'd die like this- I always thought it'd be the drugs that got me! Whaddya think, Cameron?" He slung his pale arm around Cameron's shoulders and grinned out at the crowd as though he was drunk. I watched with something like gratitude when Cameron shrugged "Lee's" arm off of him, and was even happier when Cameron announced that it was time to leave.

"These are your tributes! Tributes, shake hands, so we can go eat some Capitol food, as Alaina said!" Harley and Alaina shook hands, and Cameron looked out at the crowd again. "Happy Hunger Games!"

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**I feel like I should say something... Let's just stick with a quote, eh?**

"**No matter how many times people try to criticize you, the best revenge is to prove them wrong." **

― **Zayn Malik **


End file.
